Heritage of Lost Haven
by Weirdo94
Summary: What appears to be another everyday theft for the Babylon Rogues uncovers the beginning of a deadly trail that could finally lead them back home...but will it be worth the cost? - Now sodium free with nearly 20% more Blaze the Cat! Please R&R - Ch5 up.
1. Another Routine Larceny

Well, here it is. My first non-humor fic. I'm actually rather proud of this puppy so far and I'm hoping it can even get the Babylons some well-deserved love. Sure, they were practically tailor made to piss people off, but that's what I love about 'em. Bah, now I'm rambling on here, back to the point.

All characters are © Sega and all that jazz. If I missed something here, I'd prefer it if you simply tell me instead of bringing out the lawyers. Thank you.

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Chapter I ~ Another Routine Larceny

Empire City, the heart of trade and commercialism for the United Federation, and arguably the world. Here, colossal skyscrapers pierced through the clouds at every turn, protruding deep into the midnight sky. Despite a backdrop of twilight, these byways still carried on them a fair share of commerce, many lives fluttering about on the busy avenues below. Needless to say, a sprawling metropolis as this allowed great fortunes to be made as well as lost... some legally... others, not so much. For our story today, the latter would prove to be the case; such activities taking place nestled atop the highest floor in one of the many corporate headquarters located inside these city limits.

Though not a light was on, the moon's radiant glow revealed two silhouettes. The first was nonchalant, laid back, carmine shoes with dull grey soles tapping against the ground as it leaned idly against the clear glass pane that separated those inside from a twenty story plummet. The latter was much more involved, seated at a large, ornate desk with various graphemic characters reflecting onto this one's glasses, which were tinted a bright shade of orange, all reacting to the rhythmic dancing of delicate, yet skillful hands against the keys below.

_Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap..._

Such a pattern would carry on for several minutes, an occasional yawn from the unoccupied intruder being the only thing to break the monotony over the flow of time. This would be shattered, however, by the abrupt blare of sirens, illuminating the entire facility with a terrifying red glare. The leader, now visible as an anthropomorphic hawk, down of brilliant green that shot upward from the scalp into a thick, aerodynamic variant of "hair" similar to liberty spikes, simply set his sights on the subordinate of the pair, showing no signs of worry, or even care, in his vivid blue eyes.

With several more frantic keypresses, this hacker, a tall and slender swallow with violet plumage covered in a slim, white tubetop and matching bell bottoms, slammed her gloved palms against the input she was just typing against. She then let out a near-silent grumble of "Shit! Why now?" before making the situation clear to her avian teammate, speaking in a somewhat high, descant voice which was currently rung with frustration. "I can't shut it off. Looks like they've even placed an override in the CEO's office here. All we can do now is finish the download and pray they don't catch us before we make good our escape" Her beak morphed to a frown as she continued to look over the data, once again relaying what she discovered. "To make matters worse, they shut down all the elevators and stairways in the building...We're trapped like rats"

Seeming almost thrilled with the gravity of his current situation, the thief, whom answered to the name "Jet", shrugged and removed his weight from the window he used as support, replying with a squawky voice that most would find simply irritating. "Heh, looks like we'll have to find another way out." With those words said, the hawk kicked at the ground where the tip of his prized green and white extreme gear, the Type J, sat, knocking the other end into his grasp. A grin of idiocy now arose on his bright orange beak and without so much as a thought, he simply threw his board backwards, shattering the glass barrier that kept them inside. "Found it."

The swallow member of the team, Wave, did nothing more then a facepalm, murmuring "That bird-brain is going to get us all killed someday" With a sigh to these actions, she watched her fellow fowl take a stiff dive backwards from the forcibly unbarred window, accompanying gear and glass to the cold tarmac that laid a periling distance below. She would not follow as of yet, however. The small external hard drive that assisted this information theft had yet to finish it's function, still requiring a few more seconds with owner urging her download to complete.

From heights above, the avian leader touched down cleanly from a backflip onto his board but came to a still. "And here I thought this would be boring!" he said to himself, watching flashing red and blue lights accompanied by droning sirens approach at breakneck speed from the roadways before him. Despite the dangers, he refused to budge...not due to injury or fatigue...oh no, he was fiddling with a small headset integrated into his goggles.

Jet simply needed some chase music.

This, of course, would allow the long arm of the law to make considerable ground on Jet, closing the gap to no more then two city blocks away...Just as he wanted it. Carrying the same sly grin, he pressed hard on the Type J's throttle plate, accelerating the hawk at a velocity that kept true to his name and beginning a jocular game of cat and mouse with a fleet of squad cars.

Back inside, Wave found herself facing a conundrum growing thicker and thicker each second. The download, the entire reason this mission even took place, was continuing to lag terribly and her ears could make out the auditory sensation of footsteps drawing nerves finally fraying to their breaking point, the computer-savvy criminal made a spontaneous act of survival, snatching the removable flash drive from it's slot and thrusting her feet against the ground as fast as they could push.

Such judgment would turn out to have saved the swallow's life; just as she bolted for the makeshift exit, an entire assortment of hired guards tore the door from it's hinges, giving no warning other then the deafening clap of gunshots reverberating against the office's walls. Board in hand, she took a daring leap not unlike the team leader before her, retreating from the fragmenting rounds that burst at the first sign of collision, leaving the trail behind her no more than a lethal storm of shrapnel which left nothing intact.

Now at ground level, the fuschia feathered fowl mentally thanked her ancient deities for the very air she drew as she stood safely on the asphalt... still breathing, still alive. To add to that, she would find the streets bare of law enforcement, seemingly drawn away by the suicidal hawk who managed to serve as a distraction. Intentional or not, she simply wouldn't question it and accelerate her gear clear of the area, knowing not to look this gift horse of good luck in the mouth.

Further down the road, Jet was simply thriving off the risk, not even taking the fleet of officers behind him seriously. Why worry? There was no way sloths like _them_ could ever hope to catch the likes of the fastest thing in the universe, so a little playtime was in order, at least until his song ended. Sadly, it wouldn't last as long as the thrill-seeking fowl had hoped as his adrenaline-fed bliss was disrupted by the impatient harping of his violet teammate coming through a comm device blaring inside his goggles.

"Well?... Are you going to just keep riding around in circles until the cops box you in or are you actually coming up with a plan in that thick skull of yours?"

To which he responded with a groan, "Not now, Wave! Can't you see Herman's going into his solo!?"

This would see a frustrated sigh from his partner, rolling her eyes on the other end. "This isn't the time for games, Jet! We're in a life of death situation and as much as I hate it, it's your leadership that..."

Not to anyone's surprise, the hawk cut her off here, rushing his reply to avoid another earful from the team mechanic. "ALRIGHT! Sheesh, is it that time of the month already?" He paused here, taking the time to gauge his surroundings, figuring out just what part of the city he was in. Thankfully, Wave would take the off-color remark given earlier with silence, allowing her leader to plot out his escape. "Alright, I've got it. Wave, I need you to get Storm to land in the industrial district north of here. Get on board as soon as you can and wait for me"

"And if you screw up and don't show up in time?" Questioned Wave.

A sly grin arose on Jet's face as but two words confidently conveyed his answer.

"I won't"


	2. Daring Escape of our Fearless Leader

Hooboy, this one took forever...Yeah, that's all I've really got to say about that. Sowwy...I'm a bit too tired to come up with something witty up here, anyway.

All characters are © Sega because I don't enjoy getting violated by an attourney.

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Chapter 2 ~ Daring Escape of our Fearless Leader

A.K.A. Jet is a Fucking Moron

A.K.A. Wave is a Bi-Oh God, not the face!

In the crevices of city streets carved between towering goliaths of steel and glass, the chase continued onward. It was led, of course, by a radiant emerald streak carving flawlessly through intersections without so much as scraping off an ounce of speed, leaving but a trail of hueless vapor which lit up the night in it's wake. To the surprise of no one, Jet had a dominant lead on his navy-clad pursuers, despite not even trying at the moment. For now, he was simply keeping them occupied, providing his teammate ample time to escape before he did the same.

Now...this game was over. The avian poured on the throttle, the exhaust of his Type J growing almost to blinding levels as he hurdled off at breathtaking speed. When he thought he was clear, however, complication struck. Five-oh practically flooded in from the intersection ahead, blocking the daredevil hawk onto a single road. His eye managed to catch an escape route to the left, a petite stone stairway of no more then ten steps leading to a pair of three interconnected office buildings, the one nestled in center much smaller then the two surrounding it.

Quick thinking allowed the fowl to see an escape in this, twisting his gear to the side and using the raised steps before him as a ramp, performing a quick cannonball maneuver to help tear through the leftmost glass pane on the second story. Keeping his momentum as he burst inside, Jet found himself on an elevated walkway lining the outer wall in a large reception area, spacious and inviting with a central staircase entwining a fine marble statue standing half a dozen floors tall.

The hawk had no time to focus his eyes on the scenery just yet, however, as this was far from over. To his side he would spot an escalator, rising to the fifth level of this vacant lobby, the perfect escape. Kicking his back foot down, Jet launched himself airborne, clearing a fence-like wall of low glass to his side and landing his board lengthwise on the center railing of this automated stairway, leaving behind a bright shower of sparks as he performed a grind to the higher stories. This stunt would leave him enough time to look back and see police swarming the entrance, shouting orders amongst themselves as one managed to spot the fowl in his getaway.

Reaching the top, the bandit leader's mind began to view his surroundings as if seeing the world through the eyes of a lunatic MacGuiver. As such, the first thing he did was grasp a small decorative potted palm while taking a sharp right. His path now took him barreling towards yet another glass pane wall, unfaltering as he pushed himself and his gear for every ounce of speed he could manage. At the last moment, his arm lurched forward, wedging the hapless tree between himself and the glass, using it as a makeshift ramp against the glass, taking off against this leverage.

Outside, the remaining officers would be given quite a show as with a sharp crash, shattered glass would erupt from the center building before them, the juvenile hawk behind it streaking through the unlit sky it like a low-flying shooting star, breaking yet another window several stories higher then the first on his re-entry. His landing would prove to be a fair bit less spectacular then the flight preceeding it, however, as his makeshift method of flight would see the avian slamming hard into one of the many cubicles that littered the office. This left him grounded, back against the aforementioned barrier as he clutched his right leg at the hip, which had been jarred violently from the unorthodox launch.

Still, it was but a minor injury and the faint blaring of sirens six stories below reminded Jet just what was on the line and he quickly hopped back to his feet, pushing the sensation of pain aside and mounting his board once more, traveling toward the rearward side of this building through aisles of darkened cubicles, plotting to escape here and lose his pursuers. Unfortunately, he had rode headlong into a trap; the hawk would find his path once again barred, this time by a fellow bird, so to speak: a helicopter gunship. It was unmarked and seemingly didn't belong to any branch of GUN but there was one thing that stood out, one thing that made it's intentions clear, one thing that Jet could not shake his eyes from as he let out a gulp of deep-rooted fear...

...and that was the colossal, chain-fed minigun mounted within the side opening.

Simply looking at the massive weapon's commanding presence was enough to strike terror into the hearts of all who caught sight, and look was all the avian could to, remaining still as a statue, beads of sweat dripping down his beak as he stared down the angry barrels, fearing them like a serpent ready to strike. It would only take a single word, a cry of "Fire!", to confirm his fears and amidst the ominous tune of the minigun's spinning barrel, Jet took back to action, executing a swift one-eighty and riding for dear life back down the hallway which saw his entrance. Only a split second after this would the bullets come, shredding all in their path with shells ripping through tile at the hawk's feet and debris grazing his ankle as he fled.

Through some miracle, the thrillseeking fowl was unscathed, though he knew this simply couldn't last. Reflexes forced him into a hard left the first chance he had, charging through the aisles with gunfire still stalking him, littering empty cubicles with ammunition as it tipped backwards, traveling in reverse to keep it's sights on target. Stall after stall, the gunman would fail to end this young avian's life as the raw nerve to survive pushed him harder then any emotion he knew.

Even after the gunfire had stopped, seemingly without reason, he kept moving, simply wanting to gain as much distance as he could between himself and a homicidal pilot whom had aimed to see him six feet under. What appeared to be the gunship's retreat with a flick of it's rotors away from the structure, however, was nothing more then a change of plans as both aim and ammunition were swapped, the craft rotating sharply to point it's nose back towards it's target. Jet would see but a spark of light flash from the chopper's stubby winglet before his senses seemed to fail all at once.

---

Far away, nearly halfway across the sprawling cityscape, Wave waited impatiently alongside the pilot whom's name had been brought up earlier, Storm. He was a towering albatross, far taller in statue then the other two members of the team with a dull, uncolored plumage and small, beady eyes placed atop of a scrunched face, providing him a look of perpetual anger. Falling into stereotype, he was normally the team muscle, called in for matters of strength and strength alone, being that he was not that bright. Both of them were aboard what appeared to be the bridge of a massive vessel, though no lights were on as the veil of midnight concealed all but faded views of their faces.

The duo currently gave no concern to their active leader, both waiting nonchalantly with the swallow seated aside a glass pane window, looking over her shoulder to view outside, and her comrade standing nearby, arms folded over his chest. This was a usual activity for them, waiting for the idiot hawk to get bored of showing off and return to call it a night.

The spark of doubt which ignited the flames of worry, or at least in the larger of the pair, came from the distant sound of a minigun's distinct whine, leading way to not one, but two massive explosions, with an extra spray of gunfire thrown in the middle for good measure. In the silence which followed, Wave came under a bombardment of frantic pleading from the albatross to disobey orders and return for their leader.

"Wave, this looks bad! We gotta go back for Boss, we gotta help 'em, Wave! What if he's hurt!?"

The swallow turned her sights to him, lashing back in a frustrated tone "You do this every mission, Storm! Quit worrying already, he'll be fine, he always is! The dumbass will probably waltz in here like an idiot any minute now, asking me to patch him up because he was too stupid to watch where he was going!" She turned to the window once more and added, "Besides, he told us to stay here until he came back, no exceptions"

But Storm would persist with a whine, "It could be different this time! He could be really hurt! You gotta do something!"

letting out a sigh, she finally complied, "Fine! If it'll shut you up, I'll try and contact him, but if he gets pissed off, I'm throwing the blame at you!"

Her message clear, the swallow reached for a small, ruby red pendant necklace draped over her shoulders, cupping the jewelry in her hand as she made use of one of it's many hidden features, a walkie talkie.

"Jet, we heard some explosions in the area. Radio back to us so we know you didn't blow yourself up"

Nothing but line noise greeted her ears in return.

"Jet? This isn't funny! Hurry up and answer me!"

...Seconds passed...still nothing. She screamed into the radio now, her worried voice desperately trying to reach the hawk.

"Jet!? Damnit, Jet, don't tell me you're dead! You're too stupid to die! Say something, Jet! JET!?"

---

Back at the scene, with his sight fading into darkness and sound deafened by a shrill ringing, the madcap thief would begin to believe himself either dead or dying for a brief period of time, though such would disproven to him by the gagging scent of his charred surroundings. His vision began to return slowly, carrying a heavily delayed afterimage which blurred all he saw. This sense would still manage to work just enough, however, to make clear the cheap plywood boarding which once made up this workspace's dividers, now fallen atop him along with other scraps of rubble and debris.

Luckily, Jet would find his strength somehow remained, feeling nothing more then a headache from what he had undergone. He groggily got to the task of swatting the makeshift walls away and assessed the situation. From the look of things, there were no signs of his attacker, though he couldn't get a clear view as a still-standing workplace wall barred his sight. Judging all of this, now seemed as good as time as any to get back to his feet and the avian did just that, using whatever was left of the cubicles as a support to pull himself upright. Doing so, he grew somewhat light-headed as his headache worsened. The thievish fowl immediately drew his hand up towards his head, groaning as he clutched the aching lobe.

Upon removing his palm, the hawk would quickly come onto a starting discovery. His glove had been stained...red...blood red. With eyes widened and a nervous shudder, his pupils focused on a long stream of crimson running down his beak. Jet knew that he was hurt, bad, and he knew that if he couldn't limp back to safety now, he'd probably end up just another statistic in the mortuary. Unfortunately, bad only turned to worse from here as when the avian thief's hearing fully regressed from it's deafening ring, this sense was once more able to pick up the malicious swirling of helicopter blades still stalking him outside...as well as the spiraling whir of it's main weapon, only moments away from unleashing another hailstorm to ensure the rogue was dead.

Instinct told him to hit the ground, and Jet gladly listened, diving back into his refuge of rubble with his hands overtop his head, protecting the vulnerable appendage from sustaining any worse injury. A barrage of gunfire was soon to follow. Bullet after bullet, scraping by just overtop his head. Shrapnel violently tore through his flesh, and he could feel every ounce of it. For every splintered fragment of shredded plywood, every jagged shard of broken glass, and every razor-sharp sliver rending the unfortunate hawk's backside, he was forced to draw upon more and more of his fledgling strength, all just to quell the overwhelming urge to scream.

Just as if it seemed the bullets would never cease, the scene turned to an almost eerie state of tranquility once more. By now, the hawk needed no signs to see how greatly he was injured; his own suffering was far more than enough to tell the tale. His breathing had become somewhat struggled, not painful in it's own right, but simply erratic with random bouts of hyperventilation and every single muscle on his face was tightly clenched, serving as little more than something for his mind to focus on aside from the wounds.

Nonetheless, despite lacerated flesh and torn sinew, Jet managed to retain both strength and wit. His eyes began to dart about to see the offending gunship finally taking it's leave, leaving him enough time for a quick self-examination. Luckily, aside from the split on his brow, the avian's wounds were minor as far as blood loss was concerned, they simply hurt like a sonuvabitch and little more. Even more thankfully, despite all his bleeding, he wasn't coughing up the stuff, thus his condition couldn't have been as bad as he originally presumed. It even seemed as if the thief had caught his second wind, struggling far less than before unitl he was standing.

Of course, now that this high-flying bandit was sure he'd live, the instinct of survival once more took a backseat to other emotions, namely pride. _Just what makes this pitiful bastard think he can try and shaft __**me**__ and get away with it!?_ Already, the hawk's mind was strewn with ideas to exact his revenge, but one stuck out to him far more than any other.

Amidst the annihilated remains of what once served as functioning office space, the steel girders and supports that made up the subsequent floor were torn and bent, drooping down to the level below with damage fitting for the target of a recent missile strike. To most, such a setting would have been yet more costly damage to clean up, but to Jet it was a stairway and without so much as a passing thought, he had scooped his prized gear underneath his arm and began scaling the exposed frame to the story above.

Surprisingly enough, the eighth floor was in a near pristine state...aside from the gaping hole in the ground, that is. Still, the avian had not a moment to sit and gawk as to how this level was preserved so well. Just outside the window he could still see the chopper making it's escape.

Time for a little payback.

Still running every action on adrenaline alone, Jet leapt back on his board in a flash, rocketing down the narrow hall. Was he going to make it? The aisles felt like a blur when they passed by, tunnel vision blinding the edges of his sight. A mere handful of seconds felt like an eternity as the hawk closed in on the barrier of glass that stand tall before him, his target outside slowly growing smaller and smaller. He wasn't going to make it. Fingers balled into fists, both hands shaking, it all came down to this one jump.

At the last moment, he swerved to the side, performing a chicane-like maneuver into one of the nearby cubicles, plowing hard through the divider parallel the window. His speed alone tore it from the remnant sheets of plywood, causing it to topple downward into a makeshift ramp. It was all he needed. The hawk was airborne. Through the glass he went, fractured shards shimmering in the moonlight as they fell to the streets. Jet continued to soar, straight above the swirling helicopter blades, watching as they seemed to slow to a crawl through his eyes.

With a single push of the leg, he struck the tail of his board against the prop, igniting a sea of sparks, lighting up the night sky. That single blow, it crossed through time like a flash. Before either one of them knew it, the gunship lit up with every dial and meter on board running red. Seconds later it began to undulate wildly, like a children's top losing control. However, Jet had now begun to struggle with his own flight, as well, fighting desperately to stabilize himself after his suicidal mid-air collision.

The concrete roadways below seemed to creep up faster and faster on the helpless avian. There was no time to recover, the only option now was to brace for impact. His gear still managed to absorb most of the shock from this landing, preventing it from scattering the hawk across the pavement, but it was in no way an easy landing. Regardless, he dispersed the force by going into a roll, managing to stop himself onto a single knee. Here, he was left panting heavily, heavily clutching his left shoulder, the point of impact.

Slowly rising back to his feet, Jet stood battered, abused, but not broken. Every inch of his body, from head to toe, gloves to shoes, feathers to flesh, was either charred, cut, or both. Nearly all of his once vibrant, green down had a dark tint of soot from being so close to the fireball that nearly took his life and his colorful orange goggles were shattered overtop his eyes. Even with all these wounds, the bandit stood with a smug sense of satisfaction.

He would turn his head back just in time to see the results of his brief struggle crashing down into an eruption of flame several blocks away. The blast was earth-shaking, to say the least, audible throughout almost all of Empire City, though the avian would watch it in it's entirety with a sly grin planted on his beak the entire time, unable to resist a quick shout from the sheer excitement of it all.

For now, however, the excitement was done. Through some stretch of insanity, Jet was still alive, and insane as he may be, sitting around and waiting for the police to catch up was not on his to-do list. Sliding his malfunctioning gear back underneath his feet, the fowl took off as fast as his shaky board could still muster, interrupted not by the law, but his own comm device. Most of the words were garbled, racked with static due to damage taken by the headset, but he still made out enough words to decipher the full message.

"Jet!? Da..........................................'re dea...............too stupid to d...............................Jet! JET!?"

Nonchalant as ever, Jet simply responded back. "I'm fine..." There was a pause here, just long enough for him to notice the long strand of blood still running down his face. "...just need a band-aid...a really big one."

From the other end, he could almost make out the swallow's reply...

"See? I told you, Storm...Jet's just being a fucking moron like always!"


	3. Midol

Hooboy, this one took way longer than it should have. I hope the wait was worth it to all the two (count em, baby, two!) people who filed this puppy under their favorites list. Anyway, this is the obligatory plot chapter to move the story along, so don't expect everything to blow up like last time. The only thing that'll be doing that is Wave's temper, hence the chapter name...hur hurr.

Also, does anyone mind letting me know if this chapter warrants a rating change to M for language?

* * *

Chapter 3 ~ Midol

"_Breaking news from the Dynamite Redux LLC Headquarters here in Empire City where just moments ago a daring robbery saw both the theft and destruction of a vast array of computer archives chock full of vital company data. Varying reports all seem to confirm the culprits as a group of foul fowl who call themselves the Babylon Rogues, of which the likes of have been supposedly seen multiple times by eyewitnesses in the past week, surely stalking the scene in preparation for what has just occurred here tonight. With countless dollars worth of damage done to the facilities themselves and even more to the database, it begs the question if we'll be seeing D.R. taken out of the arms race picture entirely...._"

The broadcast continued as it always had, singing the feats of villainy and wrongdoing for any local willing to tune in. It echoed throughout a massive craft, as grand as it was large. This aerial vehicle traveled far above the heavens, suspended by a zeppelin-like body connected to a much smaller undercarriage via a pair of large steel rods on each side. The craft proudly displayed itself with hues of red, yellow, and white strewn upon a steel shell that covered the entire vessel, making the flight it achieved seem absurd, if not impossible. Nonetheless, it floated through the clouds with ease, powered by a sextet of propeller-driven engines. Among those on board this magnificent craft would be none other then the subject of such accusing words. He cared little for what a single newscaster had to say, however, as there were far more pressing things on his mind...

"Gah! Damnit, Wave, be careful with that! I didn't go through all this just so you could sand my flesh off with that thing, you know!"

"Quit being such a baby, Jet! I swear...after all these times running into gunfire like an idiot, you think you'd learn to take a little peroxide like a man by now!"

Jet, along with his violet shaded teammate Wave, had just recently taken to a small infirmary room on board, loaded up with a wide variety of medical equipment. Some was top of the line, others not so much, it all depended on what they were able to nab on or in between their big jobs. The swallow, whom would normally excel in fixing devices of a more mechanical nature, was now showing her side skill of repairing flesh and blood on her teammate and leader who currently was laying in dark green padded examination chair, coated in enough bandages to be mistaken for an Egyptian mummy.

This, just like the mission that had led to it, was the usual fare the group experienced in such situations, with the emerald colored avian squirming about as if he were a child while his mechanic cleaned and stitched the wounds he had attained through such recklessness. Wave had kept to her nature, as well, doing her job with a cross-country guilt trip, likely to be ignored by it's recipient, judging by the way the hawk crossed his arms and rolled his eyes like an intolerable youth.

"Ugh, you're just ridiculous, you know that!? Can we at least go one mission, _one lousy mission_, without having to run a metal detector over your braindead ass!? I swear, it's like you think this is a game or something! You could at least have the sense to keep those tail feathers of yours from being shot off for us! It wouldn't be so bad if it was just you, but every time you do this, you put all of our lives in jeopardy! And another thing..."

The violet swallow didn't even get a chance to finish, however, as her last sentence managed to strike quite a nerve in her leader and he was all too willing to showcase the resulting anger.

"WHAT!? I'm putting YOUR life in jeopardy!? Listen to me, you uptight, hormonal _bitch_..."

One good cutoff called for another, however...

"Bitch!?..._BITCH!?_...If you want to see a bitch, you little child, then I'll show you a bitch..."

...and the situation soon degraded into a tennis match of screaming, vulgar insults.

"Oh I've already seen a bitch! I have to put up with one every day of my LIFE!"

"Maybe I wouldn't be such a bitch if I didn't have to put up with a shit-for-brains child playing around like this is all pretend!"

"Oh boo-fucking-hoo! You know, you might be able to get over the fact that you're a useless mechanic who's gear can't even get her out of her own messes without my help if you would just take a damn _Midol!_"

Wave slowly reeled her face in towards her leader's, adorning a furious glare with intent to intimidate.

"If you say 'Midol' _one...more...time..._"

However, like the irresponsible youth the mechanic claimed him to be, Jet took such a threat as little more than a dare, gleefully responding back with a grin plastered all over his twisted little beak.

"Midol Midol Midol Midol Midol Midol Midol Mi-"

Before he could even begin to expect it, the hawk wound up recipient of a surprise hook to the jaw, carrying enough force in it to twist his head to the side. He immediately began to favor the stricken area, the muscles on his face tightening slightly from the stinging aftershock. It wasn't long until the thieving leader took a glance down at his hand to see he was bleeding...moreso than earlier, at least, before turning sights back towards the swallow whom had already let her angry trot carry her in front of the exit.

"If you want to go around acting like hot shit then be my guest! Show me just how 'good' you can handle taking my job as mechanic!", Wave screamed from across the room, "And you can start by fixing your _face!_"

Just as she was storming out the door, however, Jet was able to spy something off about the furious gearhead and wasted no time pointing it out. "Hurm, look what we have here! You've got all this righteous fury but can't even keep _yourself_ from getting shot!?"

Wave came to a dead stop, looking somewhat shocked as she turned her gaze back towards her own shoulder. Sure enough, a small amount of bandaging was peeking out from underneath her top. Cursing her luck, she began to try and play the wound off, acting as if it was nothing. "So what? I got nicked by a lucky shot! Take a look at yourself for once, you look like a mummy in all those bandages!"

Once again would the bright green fowl cross his arms in discontent. "Yeah, so? You'll even make a big deal out of it when I stub my toe! I could have come back with nothing but a splinter and you'd freak out!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Jet!? I made a scene over it because you 'stubbed' your toe clean off and came stumbling back here half-conscious!"

Jet simply responded in a scoff of indifference. "Feh...not like I needed that toe, anyway..."

How could he be this dense? The swallow was nearing wit's end with her leader, about to give up with reasoning and toss him into an old locker. Luckily for both of them, though, a change of subject just so happened to be stumbling through the door.

"B-boss! There's a fella on the line with a transport job for you! Sounds urgent, too!"

It seemed Storm had arrived just in time to cool the flames, as the two feuding fowl immediately dropped their argument for the time being with the team's figurehead getting straight to the business at hand. "A delivery, eh? What luck, sounds like we've got ourselves some easy cash! Alright, Storm, stall our client for a while I take care of the rest of these scrapes"

"Already handled it, boss!", the underling eagerly replied, "I figured you'd be busy so I told 'em you weren't here. I got their info and everything for ya, too, jotted it down by the main console!"

The hawk nodded and let himself relax against the bedding once more. "Good job, Storm. Looks like you're actually thinking for once! Go back and tell them, I don't know, that you hit me up on the two-way and I'm interested or something."

"Actually..." the swallow cut in here, "...I could use a second pair of hands in the workshop since _someone_..." she glared at Jet as this word hit the air, "...tore up their gear trying to do a jib on a helicopter from half a dozen stories up. Think you can do something simple like handling inventory while I take a wrench to that broken pile of slag?"

Storm's eyes shifted between the two, looking for some sign of protest from his leader, though there was none. Letting his shoulders droop, he let out a sigh as he replied "Yeah, yeah..." following up with a stealthy comment of "bitch" under his breath before slowly trudging out of the room, the mechanic following suit shortly thereafter with only a passing remark to the hawk. "We'll finish later. See if you can at least manage to get that mess you call your face patched up by then."

Jet, of course, had to shout back at the empty doorway, doing so as he shot to his feet with fists clenched at each side. "Yeah!? Well...well...At least I can fix mine! There's nothing in the world that can change your ugly face! You...rancid little three dollar skank-whore!" When seconds passed with no response and the avian realized he was practically talking to himself at this point, he simply folded his arms and sat himself back down, sternly watching the door as if he expected one of them to return.

Just moments later, Storm was already in the process of counting every item, down to the littlest nut and bolt they had in storage. The task was quite daunting for a single man as this was no simple utility closet, not in the least. Inside the "balloon" of this Babylonian zeppelin was an entire web of suspended steel walkways crossing to arrays of different shelves and containers. The very center of this large bubble, however, housed it's own separate room, contained fully by a thick wall of steel that had no visible entrance and held stable by a massive array of supports and thick steel cables.

Already done with the first few shelves, the albatross was now archiving his violet teammate's library of explosive devices. Dynamite, plastic explosives, detonators, remote controlled smart bombs, just about everything needed to forcefully remove an obstacle was here, waiting to be counted. The fowl put to this job only had half his mind, however, with his attention drifting to a minor inner rant of disdain over the insults he had taken earlier. " _'Good job, Storm. Looks like you're actually thinking for once.'_ Pfft, why's Boss gotta be such a jerk? Not like I did anything wrong."

Irony would kick in just after saying that as the lackey unwittingly gave an angry kick into the shelf, shaking loose from it's hold an oversized remote with a single red button locked underneath a shield of clear plastic, normally used to detonate explosives from afar. The device hit the floor with a crash and echoed the noise off every wall, from the ground all the way to the ceiling.

It was there, at the very top of this storage area, where Wave located her impromptu workshop, preferring the location not only for it's proximity to every spare part on the ship, but also for the peace and solitude she managed to find in such a spot. Of course, when such an ear-wrenching noise managed to hit her, it managed to bring a twitch to her eye and she would be less than pleasant about handling it. In fact, the swallow looked simply furious as she kicked open the door of her work area, nearly ripping it off the hinges.

"STORM! Quit making so much noise in there before I bury my wrench in your _narrow ass_!"

In defense, the lackey groaned back. "Hey, my ass isn't narrow!"

Frustrated, Wave simply rolled her eyes and shouted back, "You're right, it's huge, and if you don't keep the noise down I'll break my foot off in it!" With that, she stomped back inside, snapping the door shut behind her.

Ironically enough, the next interruption would only be a mere several seconds later as the craft's intercom system screeched to life, resulting in the muffled swears of a certain swallow back in her workshop, and gave way to an announcement from their leader.

"Listen up good, guys. We've got the job, but it'll be at least half a day before we get to the site, so get some rest and that's an order! I don't want to see you two find a way to botch this one up!"

Looking up, the albatross would already see the lights from the ceiling-mounted office switch off as the team mechanic hit the hay without so much as a simple "good night" Blowing it off, Storm lazily picked up the battered detonator and placed it back on the shelf before he decided to take the boss' orders and call it a night as well, dragging his feet out of the storage room.

---

As the sun finally began to rise on Empire City, there was still unsavory business left to be conducted by one the shady specters whom controlled this metropolis' trade from their executive seats of power. Alone from the spying eyes and ears of the press swarming about only a mere few blocks away, in the secluded back-office of what appeared to be a pharmacy for which chose it's placement to be lodged into the tight webbing of this metropolis. Though this location would have it's doors remain closed for the day, there were two here whom desired a simple trade, cold hard cash for a deadly service.

Both of these figures were nothing more than silhouettes set off by the dim lighting which peeked inside, the first a businessman, decked seemingly in a crisp, well-pressed garment, likely a suit, with a ruffled protrusion of fabric where most simply located a tie. Anything more was undiscernable as his head, from the shoulders up, was obscured in shadow, cast from the windowframe against the fledgling morning sun, though this one appeared to be a Mobian.

The second was much more visible, also beset with the height and stature of this animalesque species. On his head he hid under a large, backwards swooping hat that obscured most of his face aside from the whiskers that curved out from his muzzle. Strapped to his waist was a thick leather belt weighed down with a variety of lethal handguns, all loaded, safeties off, obvious signs of a bloodthirsty assassin.

A noise of spitting was heard, the latter of the two being the one to cause it before speaking up. "Alright jackass, this best be good. I ain't coming 'ere just ta waste my time."

"Oh I assure you, this job is big, _big_, big, nothing like last time at all!" The voice on the first man was rather gleeful, carrying the distinct tone of eccentricness in his voice. "Now let's cut to the chase since a certain _grumpy _somebody's obviously in a hurry. I know you've seen the reports, three little rascals who managed to steal oh so much of my precious research, not to mention break one of my favorite toys..."

"So let me guess", the hired gun cut in, "Ya want me ta run in there, shoot up the place, an' bring ya back a couple a' corpses?"

His employer to be, however, was quick to resist this idea. "Oh heavens no! Can you imagine the kind of stains all that blood and gore galore would leave!? No, no, no, I want you to bring them back alive. Try not to maim them too much, either. That means bring them back with _all_ of their limbs. I want them to be in one piece when I turn them into a fine, _fine_ red mist."

Disappointed, the second figure scoffed. "Feh, can I at least shoot 'em in the kneecaps?"

The first was growing hasty, urging to bring this meeting to a close. "Sure, sure, do whatever you want, just bring them back here and then we can talk about your shiny little reward."

"Don't you worry, there ain't a critter alive that can stand up to me." The gunman smirked and tipped his had back with a single finger, allowing the light to reflect off a large tooth showing in his grin. "Those pesky lil' bandits are as good as mine."

* * *

Poor Storm, always the team whipping boy. Wave _really_ should just listen to everyone and take the blasted Midol. Maybe then she'd quit being too bitchy to look down at the next scene and notice there's a hitman coming after them all. Oh well, I guess they'll have to figure out the hard way.


	4. Ventriculocordectomy

Finally got chapter 4 up. It's another dialogue heavy bit, sure, but next chapter stuff'll actually happen, I promise...no really!

* * *

Chapter 4 ~ Ventriculocordectomy

Life was once again beginning to spring back into action on board the private vessel of this trio of Babylonians. Jet would be the last to awake, already outside of his quarters where he would be found groggily trodding through the halls of his craft to be greeted by the dark reddish blue hues of sunset seeping in as they enveloped the landscape outside.

This time, their destination took the fowl three to the mostly untouched cornucopia of the Mystic Ruins. From just outside the glass protection, sprawling expanses of dense jungle blanketed the scene, only to end where the earth sharply jotted up into blank and empty rock faces that seemed to hold the entire area inside like a natural cage of rock and clay. The young leader, however, quickly found himself bored of sightseeing and was on his way once again.

His body was practically aching all over, stiffness prodding every joint from yesterday's wounds. "Christ, I'm gonna ring someone's neck for this" the hawk moaned as he reached to readjust the bandages over his left shoulder, pulling them tighter before reaching for his usual headgear, deciding to try and drown out the pains with a little music.

On the other end of the vessel, Wave was once again embracing the solitary of her own living space, not a single light on aside from the rampant flickering of a lone computer screen. She was burdened with the task of sifting through the data they had stolen last night and singling out the useful information that could help plot out their next strike. Alas, so far the search was coming up trumps, mostly unearthing files that had been corrupted by their early escape and it was up to the team tech-head to fit this digital puzzle back together.

The going wouldn't be getting easier anytime soon, either, as now the swallow's ears could make out a faint noise in the distance below her room. It was meek and hard to make out at first, but every passing second brought the source closer only to reveal it as one of the most horrifying sounds that could make her presence.

Jet was singing.

Yes, as he strolled up the steel walkways, the young leader was embracing another tune from his collection to make him forget that he had spent half of the day before having high-velocity splinters picked from his flesh, either ignorant or simply uncaring of how much this would irritate his partner "Theyyy knooow your life! They have a file about you! Theyyyyyyyyy built...your...life...so they **know what you like and know what you yearn, but they don't know a thing about me! I'm not that easy, a blank file in their meeemoooryyyyy! Still...they...**" The next verse was simply butchered by his vocal cords, coming out as nothing more than a series of incomprehensible squawking as the hawk spouting them tried pathetically to perform the high notes, showing just why he would never see a job as a vocalist in this life.

Thankfully for Wave, it wouldn't last long as the hawk dropped his songbird act and came barging through the female gearhead's door, finding the swallow with her head on her desk, covered under a pillow to muffle out Jet's atrocious singing.

She finally managed to peek an eye out from this audio protection only to be greeted by her leader's usual snide wit. "Can't handle my talent? Don't worry, sometimes I can't even sound how sexy I sound!"

The mechanic simply rolled her eyes, tossing the cushion back to a small cot in the corner of the room as she replied, "Jet, your 'talent' is giving me an aneurysm. For all of our sakes, _please_ find something to stuff that beak of yours with!"

"Hmph!" the hawk replied, "It's not my fault your tastes are so...unrefined!"

Yet another hopeless argument. By now, Wave figured she'd be better off changing the subject and did so with a roll of her eyes, sure that the fellow avian would be interested in what she had discovered in the files they had snagged, anyway. "Oh God...Jet, will you just quit wasting time stroking your ego and look at this?"

Curious, the hawk would simply shrug and comply, walking to bring himself into view of the monitor. On the screen appeared to be some sort entry into a personal diary, most likely the CO whom's office was ransacked the night before.

It read, "Kittens are so cute, all soft and fuzzy; they're just adorable! I had one of my workers pick up another batch at the shelter. I swear, my face just lit right up when I saw their cute little faces peeking out of that box. They were so precious, I almost cried when I handed them over to weapons testing...almost. Luckily, one of the lab coats was nice enough to let me borrow his rifle, after taking a scalpel to the eye, so I could say goodbye to all the cute little kitties. Goodbye, kitties! Sayonara! The way they exploded when struck by that incendiary .223 was so magical, some of them even came back to hug daddy when he was done...parts of them, anyway. After we were all finished, I just had to take one last picture to remember them by before the entrails were washed from the wall. Say cheese!"

Judging by the shock on her teammate's expression, the computer-savvy fowl assumed her leader had finished and added, "It gets better. This guy keeps going on about how he plans to 'save the people from their fate' in some of these entries, talking about himself like he's some kind of messiah...He's totally insane."

"Right, a savior that deals in death and murders animals," Jet responded mockingly, "Why are you wasting your time with this, anyway? Shouldn't you be looking for _real_ data? You know, weapon shipments, warehouse inventory, customer info, passwords, all that stuff?"

The swallow sighed and responded. "Most of the data was corrupted in the transfer. I can piece together most of it, but you've got to understand that it's going to take some time. Besides, this kind of info is perfect for blackmail. We could just send Storm down to rough up a few animal shelters and get the records of this and it's a few million easy." She then eyed her leader's bandages, scoffing as she did so. "No way you're riding anytime soon like that, so we might as well look for something to keep us busy until you can get back on a board...That reminds me, you haven't told us a thing about why we're even here yet"

"Storm already said it was a simple transport, wasn't that enough?" He had already taken a step for the exit after saying this, deciding to stop just long enough to add one last thing. "Feh, if you really want to know so bad, get your ass to the bridge and I'll spill the details on the way."

Before even waiting for a response, Jet was out of the room, leaving the mechanic rolling her eyes to her leader's actions once again, mumbling under her breath in protest as she turned to follow. "Jet, this had better be good or so help me God, I'll bash your kneecap in"


	5. Precious Cargo

Finally after...well let's just say more time than this should have taken, I have kicked aside the foul demon of procrastination, got off my ass...then got back on my ass and pressed the pretty letters on the magical keybox!

Actually, I've just been an idiot and overloading my plate recently. "Hey, I know, let's start a weekly videogame Stream! Oh, and I should take up drawing! Hey, let's join an RP group" (Which might I add is looking for a few new members cough cough we're short an Amy, and a Storm, and possibly a Vector, a Charmy and a Metal Sonic just to name a few cough cough cough cough I'm not shoving spam down your throats at all)

Either way, it's done now, right? And I'm going to pledge (just like how I "pledged" last time) to be a little more prudent with updating this puppy.

(One important note though...from this point on there are going to be more and more occurrences of really bad things happening to characters more and more often. I guess I should make it clear right about now at this point if your favorite character gets hurt or another character puts them down or something of the sort...none of it reflects my opinions...I can't bring myself to hate a fictional character, anyway... :l )

Edit: This website is stupid. For some reason if you have a line full of "="s or "-"s or "~"s or any kind of other symbol that can be easily used to designate a scene change, this wonderful website simply overrides what you want and deletes the entire line. I did a quick edit to change it, but it looks messy and I hate everything. Get the fuck off my porch.

Also it apparently won't let me

* * *

Chapter 5 ~ Precious Cargo

"Hey...you still hanging in there, pal?"

"..."

"...Listen, I know this looks bad, but nobody's taking you back to that hellhole...I promise. Those metal monsters will have to pry me from their throats if they even try."

"..."

"...We'll be out of this soon, anyway. They got my signal back at the Agency, I know they did...they had to."

"..."

"C'mon, bud...say something, please...Let me know you're not falling apart on me."

"..."

"..."

"M...m-m-mighty?"

"Yeah, little guy?"

"I'm...I'm s...s-so s-s-scared."

"It's alright...I am too, Ray..."

_ Several hours later..._

"You've got to be KIDDING me!" Wave's frustrated words rang through the ship as she trailed the hawk through a small hallway inside the craft they called home, dimly lit by an array of small, rounded windows. "Our 'cargo' is a pair of runaways scampering through the jungle! Did you even stop and THINK about what they're running away FROM for more than a second! We could be painting a target on ourselves for the entire Guardian Unit of Nations to aim for and we can't do anything about it because you're too gimped to ride! All because our 'glorious leader' wanted to make a few bucks!"

Just another rant to be brushed off by the young leader, though, as his feet continued to carry him through the empty corridor. The only thing that even hinted that he even heard the complaints against his decisions was a light scoff, hidden under his breath.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, JET!" she shouted again in a decibel so high it was a miracle any glass in range managed to remain unbroken. Yet despite this, its target remained unphased.

"...I know what I'm doing," he would finally reply several anxiously quiet moments later, coolly keeping his sights and his steps straight ahead.

This only wore the mechanic's patience down to its last strand. Promptly, she snatched Jet's still-bandaged arm, giving enough of a tug to stop him before demanding, "Damnit, Jet, I'm just as much a part of this mission as you are! Since you've already got Storm picking these two up I at least have a right to know what makes you so sure we're not going to get killed! If you don't want to keep walking around with a limp for the next six months, then you'll tell me just what's going on in that pea brain of yours and you'll tell me _now_!"

The hawk resisted with a light tug, but in his current state, there was little he could do and both of them knew it. Knowing that, he finally gave in with an agitated shout. "Alright, alright! Sheesh! Quit twisting it, will ya?...If it'll really get you off my back, then I'll tell you what _common sense_ told me...It's not GUN. Happy now?"

Her fists were practically shaking at her sides. To nobody's surprise, Wave was not the least bit pleased with such a vague response and even less so at hearing this childish numbskull trying to insult her intelligence. Didn't he even remember that she was the one who practically rebuilt half of this very ship they were standing in! It was enough to have one's blood boil, and the tech-head wasn't afraid to show it as she yelled back, "Of course I'm not happy! Just _what_ makes you so sure you're even right in the first place!"

"Well...," the hawk began with a sly grin, as if he seemed to derive a smug satisfaction of irritating his shipmate...which of course he did, "...Where there's a breakout, there's obviously a prison nearby, right?"

How long was he going to go on rambling like this with his head up his ass? Wave was tired of waiting for a straight answer, she wanted him to explain what was ticking in that hamster wheel of his, and fast. "Of course there is! Quit screwing around and get to the point, already!"

Rolling his eyes, the leader took his usual response...He ignored her and simply got back to his long, drawn-out train of thought. "Well then tell me this, why aren't there any buildings here, not even some overbloated coffee chain?"

This was his proof? The ever-so-familiar thought of "We're screwed" began rushing into the swallow's mind. While it was true the jungle surrounding the Mystic Ruin area, as well as the namesake structures themselves was put under protection as per request of numerous protest groups, that wouldn't stop the government itself which placed said protection from hiding a facility or two within the dense foliage.

Finally fed up, she completely snapped at this point, going into a full-blown rant that her boss wouldn't hear the end of anytime soon. "Jet, you FUCKTARD! Don't you understand the point of a hidden prison! Here's a _hint_ in case it went over your head, it has something to do with the word _hidden_! It's a synonym for secret, secluded, out of sight, CLASSIFIED! And did it even occur to you that maybe because there's no-one here, they could build an ENTIRE AIRFIELD out here without anyone knowing a thing abo-"

"Archaeologists," the hawk snarkily butted in to a piercing glare from his teammate, "There's always half a dozen archaeologists checking out every square inch of the jungle. You can't even build a damn lemonade stand there, much less a high security prison without one of them finding out and telling some filthy tree-hugging friend of his to tie himself to it or whatever those hippies do."

"Shows what you know, Jet!" the mechanic once again began to shout, though noticeably quieter than before. "If that's the case, then how could _anyone_ build out there at all? It's not like they're only watching for government buildings! By your logic, anyone could build a prison if they wanted to, but it doesn't change that it'll be found!"

Much to Wave's dismay, he would continue to grin, not even put off in the slightest. "Who says it's a prison?"

"Don't be an idiot! _You're_ the one who said it was a prison, remember! '_Where there's a breakout, there's a prison_'," She quoted this in a mocking tone, sure that the know-it-all leader was stumped.

"Actually...," Jet began to taunt, "_You're_ the one who said that. I was only asking you."

There was a slow, creeping urge to simply strangle the hawk slithering into the back of Wave's mind. How many times does this make that her leader was screwing around while serious business was to be had? Surely she'd lost count long ago, all the more reason to give yet another scolding on the subject. "God!...Is it too much to ask that you just give me a straight answer the _first_ time! So what are we dealing with then, a bunch of second rate criminals hiding out in caves?"

"Bingo! It's obviously just a bunch of hacks trying to make some quick dough off of random kidnappings. The way I see it, if they can't even get themselves a real hideout, there's no way they even stand a chance of knocking us out of the sky! So just relax already, will ya? Like I was trying to tell you, this'll be a cakewalk. I've got _everything_ under control!"

The green bandit grinned devilishly, pleased with himself after a successful dose of ego stroking, but irony works in strange ways, as he was about to find out. As if almost summoned by his words, the ship began to quake violently to the loud crashing of something erupting into flame just outside. Both fowl were floored by the unexpected listing with Jet taking the harder of the two hits to the ground, helpless to do much about slamming his shoulder into the steel pathway in the shape he was in. Needless to say, the Babylonian leader was far from smiling anymore, his face donning the visage of total shock with a small inkling of pain, his arm wrapped around the irritated joint as he quietly murmured under his breath. "You've gotta be kidding me..."

The swallow had already pulled herself back to her feet, more annoyed than injured as shown by her actions. "Everything under control, he says! Just what were the names of those two runaways, Murphy and Finagle!" She wasted no more time than needed for her quick rant before going into a full sprint deeper into the ship, only to stop under the command of Jet, who was shakily standing himself against the wall.

"Ughh...Wave, wait! Where are you going!"

Skidding to a stop, the mechanic spouted just enough to say what needed to be said. "That explosion sounded like an engine! I don't know about you, but I'm going to see if there's enough pieces of that thing left that I can put back together to get us out of your mess!"

l======l

From the bottom of the Babylonian vessel, a long rope ladder hung, perilously twisting as it dangled above the Mystic Ruins. On it clung three individuals, Storm and the two escapees, as they made their way higher towards the ascending craft. One of which was a frightened young yellow squirrel and the other a once powerful armadillo, currently was leading the way, both of whom were desperate to see this place as no more than a bad memory.

The duo bore an extensive magnitude of injuries. The squirrel, though being the most shaken, was the least harmed of the two, coated with an extensive amount of fairly fresh scars, the most notable of which being one running from his left shoulder all the way down to the forearm, leaving a sizable amount of scarring atop of his golden brown flesh.

The armadillo, on the other hand, clearly had a remarkable level of toughness and fortitude simply due to the wounds that he had endured recently. His ruby-red shell, once nearly-impenetrable, was lined with a spider web of cracking. Bruises and swelling from weeks past kept his left eye sealed tight and discolored the jet-black and light tan skin on his face and muzzle respectively. Just like his partner, the 'dillo wore the marks of once-massive wounds all over his body, but the worst of all was his arm...

...it simply wasn't there.

Where one of his herculean arms used to be was nothing more than a stump sprouting what appeared to be not bone nor sinew, but wires and other electronics, as if someone was trying to rebuild the limb that had been lost but never had the chance to finish, leaving him with only one hand to trudge his way up towards safety.

Maybe it was the urge to protect his friend that gave him the strength to continue. It was a miracle alone that he was even able to carry on, but this armadillo went far above and beyond such a goal and actually served as moral and physical support to the young squirrel hanging just below whom accompanied him as he had always done time and time again, despite the severe circumstances of the moment.

Whatever the context, both of them managed their way this far and appeared to be moments away from safety, though there was still one thing stopping them...fear. The terrified squirrel was simply frozen in fear, namely that of heights, dangling from nothing more but a shaky rope ladder as they rose higher and higher into the atmosphere. Of course, the armadillo simply wouldn't leave without him and had now paused to try and encourage his friend, shouting over the sounds of the high altitude winds. "Ray, come on! We're almost there, little guy! Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise!"

He wouldn't even be given a chance to try. The ladder, their one lifeline from a towering plummet, shook drastically from a deafening blast, threatening to throw all three of them from the ship. Chaos soon took hold of the situation as it all was reduced to a blur. There was screaming, that much was clear, terrified shouts coming from those that had feared a drop to the jungles below. The trio now fought to cling onto the ropey strands for their very lives, grip fading from the violent tremors. The ruby-red armadillo quickly shot his gaze up to the source of the explosion only to see that just above him, emerging from a fireball that had erupted near the top of the craft, was a dislodged propeller blade spinning wildly through the air...coming straight towards him.

_SHHHNK!_

There was no way to dodge it, though the armadillo wouldn't even try. He steeled himself and took the blow, pain ripping through his backside just so the squirrel, Ray, wouldn't have to face the brunt of the shrapnel. The red-shelled hulk failed to hold back a pitiful yowl of agony to what was practically his spine being ripped open like a massive can opener was taken to it. For but a moment, his sight faded to a vacuous sea of white, just long enough for his fingers to slip and send him falling to a spiraling plummet as the panic-stricken squirrel shrieked out his name.

"MIIIIIGHTYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

l======l

It seemed like only a fraction of time had passed before the swallow was at the scene to aid her damaged craft, holding on tight to the side of the zeppelin while using her gear for little more than something to stand on as she inched closer to the mangled engine. From just a glance alone at what little remained of the propeller through the thick, dark smoke it billowed into the air, this wouldn't be a quick fix. Wave couldn't help but to curse under her breath, shaking a fist as she pulled in closer, reaching into the mess of twisted steel to try and shut off all power to the engine manually. While doing this, however, the mechanic felt a cold chill run up her spine, the feeling that she was being watched as a shadow seemed to loom over her...

...There she saw her fears confirmed as on the very tip of the Babylonian craft stood a feline in a violet coat, her tail swishing about angrily as she shot the avian an intimidating glare.

"My name is Blaze the Cat...," she spoke clearly above the howl of the winds, a glint of purpose in her voice, "...and I am the last thing you will ever see!"

* * *

Le-gasp! Why is Blaze a villian! What's going to happen to poor Ray and Mighty! Did Wave forget to take her Midol again! Will I ever get another chapter in before the Mayan Apocalypse! Probably not, but oh well...


End file.
